Reincarnation: Unrequited Love
by NRC
Summary: Their love survived two lifetimes and reincarnation, but they are forever apart. Canon, book compliant. FIC CHALLENGE.
1. Elizabethan Era

**AN: _None are my characters. All are either real, or belonging to JK Rowling._**

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Elizabethan Era**_

It hardly meant much to be a queen.

True enough, there were people who were loyal to the cause, but such loyalty was fickle. It could easily bought by the right amount of gold. Betrayal and corruption ran rampant.

The fire-haired queen turned her gaze from the small window to the guard who was sent to escort her. He was middle-aged, perhaps with a young family waiting at home.

Thinking of children, the queen slumped, suddenly tired of life. Her son, her only son, was old enough to run his own kingdom now. She had hardly been there for him; mostly because she'd been caught up in the midst of a war.

But she was weary of it now. All the scheming, the fighting, the suspicions, the lies. She was tired of politics, the people, the endless feuding. Most of all, she was tired of living without _him_.

_He_ had been her private secretary. He'd been there through all her failed marriages. He'd supported her, he had been her closest friend. He had been the one person she felt she could trust.

He was the beginning of her end.

The queen closed her eyes. To the guard, it may have been a sign of defeat, of accepting the inevitable, but she was only recollecting her memories. She needed his strength to get her through today's ordeal.

First was his face. Handsome and serious. Eyes that were a strong brown and thoughtful. He always made her smile, no matter how strenuous her day had been. He was courteous, sympathetic, witty, and an engaging conversationalist. He had been unlike her husband, whose main goal in life was to defeat all his enemies and extend his fame and name.

No, her lover had been someone she shared her life and soul with, who understood her.

She sighed, remembering the day when everything she knew ended, and chaos began.

She hadn't meant to be so open about their intimacy. But perhaps it was just so obvious that, while she respected her husband, it just wasn't the same. The respect was not like the joy and love she felt.

Even to this day, more than twenty years later, she still blamed herself. If she'd been more careful, he'd still be there with her. For sure, if he'd still been there, she wouldn't be where she was now. It triggered the downward spiral her life had become.

She winced slightly as his pleading face swam in her mind. She remembered the pain, threatening to tear her in two and prematurely deliver the baby growing with her. She remembered standing in front of him, protecting him, shielding him with her body.

But her jealous husband had been in a blind rage. He had practically knocked her aside, even with her being seven months pregnant as it was. He had rushed forwards with an axe... She could only remember the blood after that. It had stained her silk gown and white petticoat.

It was the same petticoat she was wearing now. She wanted him with her on this day, at the end of the end. She wanted to stand with her chin held high, with him by her side.

Sighing, the queen stood from the chair, and followed the guard out. She was met with a loud noise as the people clamored at the sight of her. Some of them had been her people once.

But no matter. She would not think of them today. There would only be one thing on her mind.

She ascended the steps, and faced the crowd. No, she cared not whether they were her friends or enemies. She cared not whether they were for or against what was about to transpire. She cared not what they thought of her. They were welcome to their own opinions.

A wave of calm entered her, and she breathed a small sigh of relief. Soon, she would be with him.

The man on the platform bowed, and asked for her forgiveness. She smiled a little, fondly remembering that _he_ had taught her the value of forgiveness. She replied that she forgave the man whole-heartedly.

As she stared up at the sky, she smiled again, before her eyes were covered with a scratchy black cloth. Nothing was on her mind, save David Rizzio.

That day, in the year 1587, Mary, Queen of Scots, was executed.

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**AN:**

Any inaccuracies are my fault. I had to take artistic license, seeing as I only very briefly researched the Elizabethan Era and Mary, Queen of Scots.

Written for Bellatrix7's **Reincarnation Challenge.**

**Next chapter will have the next lifetime.**

**Review your thoughts and opinions.**


	2. Marauder Era

**AN: _None are my characters. All are either real, or belonging to JK Rowling._**

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_**Marauder Generation**_

The boy glanced lovingly at the red-headed girl dancing on the fallen leaves in front of him. As if feeling the adoration pouring out of him, the girl looked up, her emerald-green eyes lighting up.

They'd only known each other for two weeks, but they'd instantly connected. Perhaps it was because they could both do magic, while her sister and parents could not. It always felt like she'd known him her whole life.

She picked up a rose bud, and showed it to him. Two seconds later, it began to bloom of its own accord, its soft pink petals opening and closing.

He smiled at her teasingly. "You know, the ministry can punish you if you do magic outside school; you get letters."

At once, she threw the rose away, as if getting rid of the evidence.

"I've done magic outside school," she whispered, horrified.

He smiled a little wider. "We're all right. We haven't got wands yet. They let you off when you're a kid and you can't help it."

The girl picked up a fallen twig and threw it at him, taking care to throw it high enough to miss his head.

He laughed. "Once you're eleven, then you've got to be careful."

She sighed, looking around wistfully. "It _is_ real, isn't it? It's not a joke? My sister say's you're lying to me. She says there isn't a Hogwarts. It _is_ real, isn't it?"

He nodded. "It's real for us, not for her. But we'll get the letter, you and me."

The girl sighed again, but it was a happy sound, a relieved sound. He always knew what to say to make her feel better, as if he knew her mind and heard her thoughts.

_You and me_.

She liked the sound of that. As if together they were whole. She felt a sense of deja vu but brushed it off, spinning a twig in her fingers as she laid down on the ground.

"Will the letter really come by owl?"

He smiled at her and her curiosity. "Normally, but you're Muggle-born, so someone might have to come and explain to your parents."

She turned her strong, albeit scared, green eyes to him. "Does it make any difference, being Muggle-born?"

He hesitated, but quickly allayed her fears. "No. No difference at all."

"Good," she said, relaxing a little. "How are things at your house?"

He turned away and began tearing dried leaves. "Fine."

"They're not arguing anymore?"

He turned back to the girl stretched out beside him. She really was the only person who cared about him. His parents spent too much of their time fighting rather than looking after him. He had no siblings or friends.

She was the only one who understood him.

"Yes, they're arguing," he said bitterly. "But it won't be long before I'm gone."

The girl shifted a little. "Severus?"

He smiled when she said his name; it made him feel whole and complete. "Yeah?"

"Tell me about Dementors again."

"If you're worried they'll give you to the Dementors because you do magic outside school, they won't! It's only for serious stuff. You won't end up in Azkaban, trust me."

And Lily Evans trusted Severus Snape for another six years, until one day, one person decided to separate them.

"What are you gonna do?" Sirius Black taunted. "Wipe your nose on us?"

The crowd of students around them laughed. The greasy-haired boy on the ground swore, but he couldn't move, as though he'd been bound by invisible ropes.

"Wash out your mouth," another boy said coldly. "_Scourgify_."

"Leave him ALONE."

The girl who shouted pushed her way through the crowd, looking livid. Her red hair danced behind her, and her green eyes flashed dangerously. She stood in front of the boy on the ground, facing his attackers.

"All right, Evans?" asked the boy who cast the cleaning spell. He pulled a hand through his hair, aiming for a windswept look.

Her furious eyes were directed at him. "Leave him alone," she repeated. "What has he ever done to you?"

"Well, it's more the fact that he exists, if you know what I mean," he smirked, giving her one of his winning smiles.

"You think you're funny, James Potter," she retorted. "But you're not. You're nothing but an arrogant, bullying toerag. Leave him _alone_."

An odd sense of deja vu swept through both Lily Evans and Severus Snape, the latter of which smiled lovingly as she defended him. It was how he'd always remember her as: fierce, protective, and loving.

James Potter glared at Snape, and the greasy-haired boy noted something in his eyes: jealousy.

Again, the deja vu feeling coursed through him, as if he'd seen this scene in a dream, or a dream of a dream.

He had never wanted to wake up. Her loving protection creating a shield around him was the last memory he had of her with him, before she disappeared from his life.

He never stopped loving her.

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**AN:**

Apologies if they're not very... linked. I tried, but I seem to have lost my writing touch these days.

**Review your thoughts and opinions.  
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